


Armistice

by Bishmonster



Series: The thin line: A Harry Potter fix it [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Exposition, F/M, Hurt Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, cashmere - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bishmonster/pseuds/Bishmonster
Summary: Draco reflects on his summer, he also helps Harry dress
Relationships: Pre Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: The thin line: A Harry Potter fix it [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086680
Comments: 20
Kudos: 186





	Armistice

**Author's Note:**

> This part was a struggle all on its own. Mostly because of an unfortunate incident with a jug full of water and mixing up the drying pages. I always hand write the first draft. My own particular process but this time I was full of regret. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy (hope it makes sense)

“…then why didn’t Mrs. Weasley help?”

“I’m afraid there is no way to know Mrs. Weasley’s motivations without speaking with her.” Snape answered for Lady Malfoy. “I suppose… she has too many red headed distractions.” The Potions professor let out a small snort resembling a laugh. “Or… she does not know to look, having no experience.” Which sounded more diplomatic.

“Draco,” his mother changed the course of conversation in that way of hers. “Mr. Potter will require help getting dressed.” She smoothed a hand over Potter’s ridiculous hair. Draco wondered if the other boy could feel a soothing warmth spread down his spine.

“Yes Mother.” Draco used his words to disguise the unnatural racing of his pulse. At the moment, Potter wasn’t much to look at, still, Draco had to forced his lingering gaze away. To be polite, of course.

“Try to be gentle.” He was instructed with some humor. Draco flashed his teeth at his gently smirking mother, all the while silently agreeing with her. If the things spilling from Potter’s normally reticent mouth were true, and Draco suspected they were, Potter deserved a little kindness. Even from an enemy.

As a child, Draco had been spoiled more than a little rotten. Especially by his father, who encouraged the bratty behavior. It was over the summer Draco came to some realizations. Mainly about his future. He did not want to be betrothed to a girl he had never met. A faceless girl at Beauxbatons. Especially since Draco could not even remember her name. His sexuality, as it happened, did not include females exclusively and Draco had been indulged too often as a child for him to settle on someone he did not want.

Also, there were those middle of the night fantasies to take into consideration. All featuring unruly dark hair and deep green eyes. Needless to say, Draco’s perspectives had changed.

His mother, not one to pry into his life and respecting his right to choose, sensed his newfound reluctance to follow in his father’s auspicious footsteps. She started extending invitations to afternoon tea which turned to additional mid-morning walks and the occasional luncheon in the city. The summer had been _blissful_. Better than any summer in memory with Draco soaking in Narcissa Malfoy’s tutelage like a thirsty succulent. She taught him the Black family history, never shying away from the absurdity of the family’s convictions, and gently pointing out the similarity to his own father’s beliefs. Lucius, fully in favor of Draco’s emersion in his wife’s family’s history, was unaware she was also teaching their son to question those beliefs.

A peace settled over Draco and with the absence of his father’s rhetoric on the mugglization of the wizarding world, he found he did not hate any muggles or mudbloods, with the exception of Granger. She had damaged his pride too many times for him to forgive. Only, he hated her beyond the status of her blood. She had earned his ire. To be fair, he had provoked her, and he supposed in her shoes, he would have thrown a punch or two. Still, Draco was holding onto the grudge.

The summer progressed peacefully until Lucius requested a private, wizard to wizard meeting. The course of the meeting was fraught with silent piercing stares then ended with Lucius letting it be known, should Draco find the urge to stray from the path _painstakingly_ laid down, he would find himself disinherited and without allies.

The next day, Draco had been on a train back to Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy with superb timing had created a quagmire of conflict in his heir. Draco mourned for the summer as the air turned thinner and colder, just as he mourned for his childhood when he had been so very sure his father was always right, instead of self-righteous and bigoted. Draco had been under the illusion his father was infallible and now, well now, Lucius Malfoy just seemed foolish. 

The sad fact, Draco had already known, if he were being honest. Professor Snape had spent many summers with Draco over the years, with his own particular brand of patience, tutoring him in Potions. Draco had been drawn to the complex art before he even received his letter.

Snape had never been reserved in conversations about his Death Eater affiliations, nor his regret about making uninformed choices. Snape was explicit in regard to his own feelings though disinclined to share any actual details of what had happened during the war. Draco assumed this was a personality flaw and not the direct result from the Dark Lord’s descent into madness.

A madness Draco was now recognizing in his own father’s speech patterns. All of Snape’s lessons intertwining with Narcissa’s came flooding back to Draco at the most inconvenient times. They plagued his daily thoughts just as his father’s threats haunted the quiet moments. Draco found it easier to think, to focus, outside. Which was where Potter found him. The-boy-who-lived-to-complicate-matters with flushed cheeks and eyes bright. This infuriated Draco beyond reason.

How dare the Gryffindor be so damned attractive, running around in good spirits. Casually strolling through the snow with his ugly scarf loose in the wind, exposing the prominent edge of a clavicle. Potter exuded carefree, nearly jubilant attitude.

 _I could not have been farther from the truth_ , Draco mused with a critical eye on the, frankly, emaciated boy shivering on the settee.

“Come on Potter.” Draco said with his hand reached out to help the boy stand. Those mystical green eyes were wide with fright. It was a look he had tried to provoke for years, only now there was no satisfaction.

“Why don’t you follow Draco into the classroom, for more privacy.” His mother spoke softly to Harry.

“Yes ma’am.” Potter said obediently. He grabbed Draco’s hand with clear reluctance. The Slytherin dropped the thin hand once the Harry was standing, preferring to guide the boy to the other room by the small of Potter’s bare, bruised back only breaths away from touching the pale skin.

&&&&&

Harry whirled around as soon as the door to Professor Snape's office clicked shut. He heard the tell-tale whoosh of the locking charm and knew it was now or never if he was going to save an ounce of his pride. He was still fast, even partially incapacitated, and using surprise as an advantage, it was easy to push Malfoy against the edge of Professor Snape’s old wooden desk.

“You cannot hold anything I say against me.” Harry pushed his full body into Draco, using his meager weight to pin the taller boy in place. Well, that had been his intention, until he realized how much he liked the way Draco’s long lines fit against his own.

Draco did not agree one way or another. He stared down at Harry with those stormy eyes, one eyebrow cocked upward in amusement. His smirk showed no teeth. Harry sucked in a breath, shocked by how _affected_ he felt by the look. Like he wanted to choke the smug prat but mostly he wanted to stay crowded up against Draco and the desk.

“As appealing as that sounds, you really should consider putting on some trousers. Even I get chilly in Snape’s classroom.”

“I said that out loud.” Harry blinked. Once. Twice.

“Potter, at this point, assume anything you think will be heard by all. Professor Snape’s potions are long lasting and powerful.” Draco mused.

“So you know…” Harry trailed off, straightening up and taking several steps away. “By all? Oh shit. Ron! Hermione!! This is bad.” He panicked, pacing.

“Take these.” Draco handed Harry a pair of dark trousers before he could get anymore worked up.

“Er…” eloquently fell out of his mouth when he instinctually tried to bend down to step into the pants. Draco rolled his eyes theatrically.

“You’re ridiculous. Come back over here and lean against the desk.” Draco ordered. “Leg up,” Draco helped Harry into the expensive trousers with more patience than Harry thought the Slytherin capable of.

“I’m always patient, Potter.”

Harry’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Draco did the other leg then gave Harry time to fasten the pants.

“Good. Arms up.” Draco said and in Harry’s rush to obey he jostled his ribs. He barely let out a gasp before Draco was patting him down with a forgotten sweater in his hands.

“I’m ok.” Harry said, and really he was. The pain was quick and fleeting. Draco looked angry.

“You have to be careful.” The blonde said resembling the intonation of his mother. “Arms up slowly this time, Potter.”

Harry did as he was told. Draco rolled up the sweater and let it drop down Harry’s arms, gently tugging it over his pale face and then pulling the hem in place to rest on Harry’s hips.

&&&&&

“I don’t want to ruin it!” Potter cried out is despair as soon as Malfoy pulled away. Then, “So soft!” The brunette whispered to himself. “So warm!” He continued, hugging his arms to his chest. One non-bandaged hand rubbing the cashmere reverently.

“It’s just a sweater Potter,” Draco assured him with none of the arrogance he usually displayed. Harry’s appreciation of the sweater elicited a blooming pride in Draco’s chest, chasing away the chill of the classroom. Harry was practically cooing in pleasure with a strange little smile on his thin lips.

“This is the most wonderful…” Harry trailed off with widened eyes. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.” The smaller boy was once again in Draco’s space.

“I’m sorry.” Draco blurted out unable to look away from the earnest face. The same face which had driven him to anger mere hours before. “For my part in…” Draco tried to explain. He felt as if he were the one dosed with the Unburdening. Harry cocked his head to the side in question. “…er… with your injuries.” Draco finished.

Harry stepped back again and this time the loss was visceral. Draco tenuously held onto the leash of his self control, as to not manhandle the injured boy back to his side.

“You pity me.” Harry said dumbly. Draco wondered if Harry’s eyes always glistened that way or if it was a trick of the low lighting.

“No.” Draco assured him. “I was just… already angry and should not have taken it out on you.”

“You know,” Harry was nodding his head seriously. “I get that.”

“How are you even real?” Draco muttered. “Even Gryffindors hold grudges. The weasel wouldn’t have been so understanding.”

Harry huffed out a self deprecating laugh. “You’re not wrong. I’d like to believe I’m more than just my house. Just ask the Sorting Hat.”

“What does that even mean?” Draco puzzled, once again bending down to help Harry slip into his shoes.

“Had you not been such a prat, I would’ve been your housemate.”

“What the actual fuck Potter?!” Draco jumped to standing and yelped loudly enough to bring his mother out.

“Anything the matter, Draco dear?” Narcissa joined them in the darkened classroom, the white of her hair sparkling even with such poor lighting.

“No Mother.” Draco said before Harry could open his unruly mouth. “It’s time for supper, you won’t mind if I take Potter to the dining hall? His Mother smile her blessing.

“I am starving.” Harry said, clear surprise on his face. “Professor,” he addressed Snape with a question. “When will this… side effect lift?”

“I suggest you do your best to avoid anyone you don’t want to know your deepest darkest secrets.” The man said from his half emerged position at his office.

“Unhelpful Professor.” Harry said cheerfully, waving as Draco led him out of the room.

&&&&&

Harry’s stomach was rumbling. He suspected some of the uproar was the hand hovering right above his bum. Those pop rocks were threatening to turn to butterflies. Suddenly and for no explicable reason, he wanted to sprout poetry to Draco Malfoy of all people. It was lucky he didn’t know any poetry. Harry felt safe to keep his mouth firmly shut even if he did slow his steps to extend the silent walk through the deserted hallways. All too soon they were at the massive carved doors.

“Wait.” Harry cried before Draco could pull them open. “You won’t… please don’t… abandon me. Inside.”

“Abandon you?” Draco sneered as if the concept was foreign and distasteful on his tongue. His scowl was fierce and familiar. Harry felt soothed by its presence. Draco could not fake his reaction. A beat passed with Draco’s hand hovering over the brass handle. “Are you prepared for the backlash?”

“Draco, have you not been paying attention to the last four years? I’m a champ at backlash.” Harry smirked and that was the absolute truth.

“You’re still ridiculous.” Draco said and with a deep fortifying breath, opened the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Author thrives on meat, cheese and kudos as part of that good dirty keto.
> 
> Comments for desert please!!!!!!


End file.
